All That's Left
by iorwen
Summary: Robert recalls his time with as a youth with Lyanna. Bittersweet memories.


Title: All That's Left

Rating: P/G-14

Characters: Robert/Lyanna

Prompt: Cold noses/Warm Hands (sort of, kind of)

Giftee: luvscharlie

Disclaimer: Characters and settings belong to George R.R. Martin. Some quotes taken directly from the series of novels A Song Of Ice And Fire and the HBO show Game of Thrones

Acknowledgements: Thank you to my lovely beta reader, lj user="linndechir"

Summary: Robert's memories of Lyanna Stark

"_I can't even remember what she looked like; I only know she was the one thing I ever wanted"_

But Robert remembered other things. He remembered when they were young, when he and Ned were Jon Arryn's wards and Lyanna came to visit her brother in the Vale. She was like a wild tempest, a flash of fury as she tackled Ned for teasing her about her looks.

"Look at you," Ned said, eying his sister up and down, "You've grown up, soon you'll be wed, a wife and a mother."

She punched him hard in the arm. "Not just yet, brother," she scowled.

Ned chuckled, "I bet father is looking for a suitable match as we speak. In fact, I hear Walder Frey is looking for a new wife."

Lyanna frowned, her brows knitting together before she took chase after Ned as Robert looked on, roaring with laughter. She caught up to her brother and pounded her tiny fists against his chest in rage, forcing him to take back his words.

Robert thinks that may have been the moment he knew Lyanna would be his; or perhaps it was the moment she convinced him to show her the sky cells. Ned had gone off with Jon to see about some trouble with the hill tribes when she came to him. Sauntering down the High Hall towards him, her pale slim fingers slid across the marble walls, tracing their blue veins as she kept her gaze on him. Robert saw the determination in her eyes, knew she was after something. He had hoped it was him she wanted.

"Please," her pink lips had pouted, "I only want to see if they're truly as fearsome as people say they are."

There was a storm brewing, the winds blowing strong, making it difficult to keep balance on the slanted shelf of the cell floor.

"Perhaps we should go inside," Robert shouted over the sound of the gale and pounding rain. But Lyanna had only crept closer to the edge, letting her head fall back and the rain wash over her.

He remembered dark, chestnut curls whipping around her head as she looked out across the mountains He remembered his heart beating rapidly like a war drum out of fear or desire or both. He grabbed her, pulling her back against his chest before they fell against the wall of the cell. Robert's body pressed against Lyanna's, his heat radiating through her dampened dress.

"If you fell," he said, "If anything should happen to you…"

"What?" she asked him, panting slightly from the excitement of the danger and of being close to this strong, handsome man. Her breath was hot against his skin as her eyes searched his for an answer. Robert remembered her eyes, grey with ripples of ice shining in them, they were the colour of Valyrian steel and they pierced his own with equal sharpness. He lowered his gaze from hers, staring at his feet.

"Ned would kill me," he told her before releasing his hold on her and leading her back inside.

_Robert stared at the cold stone of Lyanna's tomb. Is this what she truly looked like? Did the mason do her justice? Robert shut his eyes and tried to recall her features. Brown hair, grey eyes, full, pink lips. They blurred together like an out of focus dream, like a ghost just out of reach._

He remembered coming to Winterfell. It was bitterly cold as Ned proudly showed him around.

"Seven Hells, Ned, you call this home?" he asked, pulling his furs closer around him.

"Storm's End is cold too," Ned proclaimed.

"Aye, but this," he shuddered, "This is colder than a Septa's teat."

Ned shook his head and snickered at his friend's off coloured remark.

"Perhaps our dear guest is just too soft, brother," Lyanna's voice reached him from behind. "It takes a strong man to endure the North."

Robert remembered her breath on the air drifting towards him like a mocking caress.

"I'm strong," he told her, puffing up his chest, "You should see me with my war hammer."

"A fearsome sight, I'm sure," she said with her eyebrow arched and a sly smile upon her lips. Ned bit his cheek to keep from laughing but Robert saw the grin on his friend's face. He watched Ned's sister walk away, feeling a fool. He remembered the sound of her retreating footsteps, the soft crunch of snow beneath her sheep skinned boots as she left him.

"_Ah, damn it, Ned; did you have to bury her in a place like this?" His voice was hoarse with remembered grief. "She deserved more than darkness…"_

"_She should be on a hill somewhere, under a fruit tree, with the sun and clouds about her and the rain to wash her clean."_

"_She was a Stark of Winterfell," Ned said quietly, "This is her place."_

Robert remembered Lyanna's home. He remembered a flash of blue dress, trimmed with fur against an expanse of icy white. He remembered calling her name breathlessly as he ran after her.

"Lyanna, come here," he cried out.

Her cutting laugh echoed through the Godswood, the face of the weirwood tree laughing along with her.

"Ned says you like to hunt, that you're good at hunting. Is that true?" she asked him , her gloved hands wrapped around the great white trunk as she peeked out from behind. The wind blew, shaking the trees limbs and scattering its red leaves all around her.

"Yes," he answered, staring at the lines of her dress and how the winter fabric hugged her body.

"Then hunt me," her grey eyes shone with mischief, "Catch me if you can!"

He remembered running through the forest chasing after her, the cold frost making it hard to breathe. He remembered latching on to the hem of her dress, the wool slipping through his gloves before he grasped the fur trim, pulling her down with him onto the newly fallen snow. Their exhales were warm on each other's faces before he dared to crash his lips into hers. It was a clumsy, greedy kiss, hard and rushed, but Lyanna opened her mouth to him and welcomed it. They looked at each other afterward, huge grins on both their faces.

"Your nose is cold," she told him

"So is yours," he said, "And wet."

They laughed together before Ned came through the tress, calling their names.

"_I'd sacrifice my throne for her to see another sunrise," he proclaimed as Ned stood beside him, quietly remembering a promise he made long ago. _

"_How she loved the sun, how she loved to ride through the fields, and flowers, she loved flowers, didn't she Ned?"_

_Ned nodded, "She was fond of flowers," he said quietly as the damp air of the crypt filled with the scent of blue roses._

Robert remembered entering the glass garden of Winterfell, the sudden heat from the hot springs almost painful after coming in from the freezing cold of the outdoors. His skin tingled as he walked through the vegetation towards Lyanna.

She was tending to her roses, lovingly caressing their delicate blue petals.

"They're very rare," she told him not looking up from her work, "Winter roses are the rarest flower."

"As rare and as beautiful as the young Lady Stark.," he said assuredly.

She smiled slightly at the compliment and went back to pruning her flowers.

"Lyanna," Robert said, drawing out the name as if in a song before he wrapped his arms around her. He brushed her dark hair aside and planted a kiss on her long neck. She turned around to face him and let Robert find her lips as her arms came up to wrap around his neck. Her hands were warm, singeing through the cold that still grasped onto his cheeks.

"Your hands are warm, my Lady, you have a fire in you," he told her, nestling into her hair and nibbling her earlobe.

"You're wrong," she told him, "I'm a Stark of Winterfell, and I'm all ice."

Robert gave a hearty snort, "Well perhaps I can melt you," he said as he leaned back into her.

"No," she said, stopping him, her hands on his chest. Her stare was defiant even though her lips curled into a smile.

"Be careful, Robert, cold ice can burn deeper than fire."

_The king touched her cheek, his fingers brushing across the rough stone as gently as if it were living flesh._

"_I vowed to kill Rhaegar for what he did to her."_

"_You did," Ned reminded him._

"_Only once," Robert said bitterly._

"_You avenged Lyanna at the Trident," Ned said._

_Robert let out a frustrated sigh, the sound more like a cry of anguish and defeat._

"_Rhaegar won, damn him. I killed him, Ned, I drove that spike right through that black armour into his black heart, and he died at my feet. They made up songs about it. Yet somehow he still won. He has Lyanna now, and I have her."_

_Ned said nothing, he looked once at his sister's tomb sadly and walked away._

"_He has her," Robert cursed to the empty air, "And all I have, all that's left are a handful of memories." A tear escaped the king's eye and ran down his cheek, into his black beard._

"_I don't even remember what she looked like._


End file.
